


Curtains

by lizzie_pj



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-16
Updated: 2016-05-16
Packaged: 2018-06-08 19:31:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6870541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lizzie_pj/pseuds/lizzie_pj
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mr. Molesley and Miss Baxter spend the afternoon in York where they are trying to find new curtains for Molesley's cottage. This is a reply to another person's fanfic because the thought of curtains never quite left my mind after I read the original story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Curtains

**Author's Note:**

> This is a reply to the story "knitted together" by another author that has been pusblished on another website. That person has thankfully allowed me to write a sequel to the original story. The first part doesn't have to be read beforehand but it doesn't hurt to, either.
> 
> I do not own Downton Abbey, Molesley or Baxter. If I did, I wouldn't be writing fanfic.

She had asked him to accompany her to York on her next half day off. That was if he didn't mind doing some shopping, she'd told him after she had hurriedly made her way up from the big house to the village school during his lunch break a few days ago. Something about needing new buttons and threads, she had murmured, and something else.

Naturally, he had agreed to the trip immediately, giving his consent with an eager nod of his head that was all too typical for him. And now he found himself at Downton station waiting for Miss Baxter.  
He wondered what that something else that she needed could be. Of course, her remark about new curtains for his cottage was still as vividly in his mind as it had been after he closed his door behind her that other day. But it had been months since then and they had never mentioned it again.

No matter how much he wished for Miss Baxter to be in his life a little bit more, even if it was just for re-decorating his home, he was still realistic. It wouldn't do to get lost in a daydream. She would have certainly forgotten by now that she ever spoke to him about curtains at all. Molesley reprimanded himself silently that getting one's hopes up too high would only end in disappointment.

So, when he spotted her on the platform, smiling and cautiously waving at him, he couldn't think of anything else than how wonderful the mere prospect of a day together in York was.

They spent most of the train ride in silence, but it wasn't awkward or uncomfortable. Joseph was engulfed in a book that he planned on reading with his students soon while Phyllis was looking out of the window watching the fields and trees pass by as the train moved in what felt to be impossible speed.  
She was thinking of everything and nothing but mostly she contemplated about the meaning of those shy, little glances Mr. Molesley shot her from across every now and then when he thought she wasn't looking.

All of a sudden, her reveries were disrupted by an abrupt halt of the train. Her purse fell down from the seat next to her and Mr. Molesley looked up, obviously startled. Sooner than she would have expected him to, he pulled himself together though and reached forward to pick up her bag.

„Thank you, Mr. Molesley that's very kind of you. Now, let's see what's on my list for today." she said, pulling out a small piece of paper on which she had noted down the things she needed. „Thread – blue, black and white, buttons, needles,...oh, and of course, curtains." Even though she mumbled it all in such a soft voice that her words were probably meant just for herself, Joseph's head shot up at the sound of that word. Curtains. So she hadn't forgotten, after all. He beamed.

Miss Baxter frowned at him for a second, then smiled at his evident eagerness. „We should start with my stuff, that will be done in no time at all and leave the curtains for later. Safe the best for last, so to say. This way we'll have more than enough time to find you something suitable and be back in time to catch the train."

He couldn't agree more.

After their arrival in York they wandered around a little aimlessly through the streets for a while, looking for places whee they would get what they had come for and at the same time just enjoying the free time they spent together. They chit-chatted about this and that, he told her about the school and his father and she had a few stories from the Abbey to share, and in no time they had arrived where most of the stores were located.

In the first few, Joseph had thought it best to stay out of way and let Miss Baxter scurry around in search of what she needed. She was a conscious shopper, Molesley discovered, as most of it had really been done in a flash. Now they were in a tiny little shop that sold buttons and and yarns and other stuff and he let his thoughts wander. Why would anyone need all this? What purpose had those penny-sized flat blue buttons and what difference was there between them and the round black ones? The latter ones reminded him of a stuffed toy's beady eyes.  
He stopped those ridiculous thoughts that would lead to nothing and instead watched Miss Baxter discussing something with the shop assistant. Apparently there seemed to be a problem with one of the threads the girl had brought.

So, when the girl had retreated to the back of the shop, probably to fetch something for her customer, Molesley slowly approached Miss Baxter.

„Is everything alright? Can – can I help you with something?" He stumbled over his own words.

„Oh no, it was just the thread, you know, I was looking for something a bit stronger, more like yarn than just simple thread. I hope she finds something." Then she added, in an attempt to make up for the time he had spent waiting in shop corners already. „I would have everything, then and we could finally get to the curtains."

Her lopsided smile made him wonder for a short moment, if she really meant it or if she was just making fun of him. But, no, she wasn't like that, he reasoned. She was too kind to lead him on in such a way.

It turned out that somewhere in the depths of the storage there had been whatever thread Miss Baxter had needed. Molesley couldn't make out the difference so if it hadn't been for the fact that Miss Baxter smiled at the sight of the yarn roll and bought it alongside a few other little items on the counter it might as well have been the same thread the shop girl had had shown her before. He was everything but an expert when it came to sewing and had always been relieved that such elaborate handiwork was by far not as frequently required from a valet as it was from a lady's maid. Or else he would have been doomed.  
-

When she had finished her errands she made pretty sure that it was his turn now by telling him more than once, but somehow it didn't really feel like it. He was glad because he didn't love being in the spotlight, so it was no wonder that he immensely enjoyed watching her rummaging between all the fabrics of different color and material in search for the right ones for his purpose.

Soon they had found a light green, almost see-through fabric that would fit his kitchen rather perfectly and heavy, dark-brown curtains for his bedroom.  
What proved to become a difficult task, however, was the case of the living room decoration. Whether the fabric was too light or the pattern too colorful, Joseph always found something wrong with Miss Baxter's choices for that particular room. So much that she had almost succumbed to giving it up for the day after an extremely bright and garish purple silken fabric. How they had laughed upon their hurried exit from the shop that had something this atrocious in stock.

Molesley knew that he was beginning to get on her nerves by being so picky, even if she wouldn't openly show. She had rolled her eyes at his refusal of a fabric once already when she thought he didn't notice. But he had and it nagged him.

He didn't want her to be annoyed with him. He was determined to find something but he wanted something special. After all, the living room was the one room that he spent most of the time in when he was at home. It was literally the room in which he lived. He wanted it to look nice, for himself and for the rare occasion on which he had visitors. And most of all, he wanted something that reminded him of her. Her who had spent her free evenings knitting a scarf for him, her who now endured his strenuous company during her half day. The hitch was that he had no idea how curtains could remind him of a person at all, let alone of Miss Baxter.

Because he was too deep in thought he hadn't noticed the slightly concerned look that Miss Baxter gave him. She was watching him frown out of the corner of her eyes, he looked bothered.  
„Of course, he would be", she thought, „I would be bothered, if I couldn't find what I wanted, too." But what did he want? She knew he must have had something special in mind or else he would have chosen one fabric or another long before. He hadn't been that choosy at all about the other curtains. Whatever he had in mind, she hoped they would find it soon. Very soon.

Though it had been a nice summer day, the early evening breeze was getting a bit chilly and Baxter's feet were starting to hurt a little from walking on the cobbled stones all afternoon. What bothered her most was that it was getting late and if they wanted to be back at the station for the last Downton-bound train there would only be time for one last store at most. Molesley must have noticed the church tower clock chime, too, as his pace increased noticeable.

„We better hurry up", he suggested. Then added in a high-pitched, alarmed voice, „Or else we miss the last train and be stuck in York of all places for the night!"

In her mind, that didn't sound too bad of a scenario, but she'd better not let her thoughts wander further in that direction. It would certainly leave Mr. Molesley flabbergasted to say the least if he knew what she was thinking. She shook her head a little as if it helped her shaking off those improper thoughts, then followed him into yet another store.

The certainty of this being the last chance to find something that day must have clicked something in Molesley's head as it was him, this time, who searched through the range of fabrics while Miss Baxter was standing next to him, observing. One or two times, he stopped in his tracks for a moment to look a bit closer at the fabric but never long enough for Phyllis to think that he liked it enough to buy it.

It wasn't until a few minutes later when she noticed that something in his expression had changed. He was tilting his head a little in thought, and holding onto a deep red cloth that looked somewhat expensive. It had a recurring pattern of leaves embroidered which she wasn't at all sure she liked. She almost found it old-fashioned but bit her tongue before she would make a nasty remark. It had been so obvious that he wanted something with a meaning to him and if he had found it in this, who was she to judge him?

Standing at the cashier a little later, waiting for the shop assistant to cut and pack the selected item, Miss Baxter couldn't overlook Molesley's beaming expression.

„I'm so happy for you that you got everything you wanted, after all." She merrily remarked. Seeing that he was so happy made her happy, too. Even though she couldn't relate to his excitement about those curtains in particular.

The mood on the train was different on their way back to Downton than it had been on the ride to York. Even though they both were exhausted from the afternoon out they chatted animatedly and their conversation turned from the latest gossip to the approaching annual church bazaar and somehow back to the curtains.

„Really, I'm so glad we were successful today", Miss Baxter beamed. Then continued, feeling a bit cheeky „Not that I would mind spending more time with you, Mr. Molesley. Quite contrary."

The shocked look he gave her reassured her that it had been right not to disclose her daydreams of being stranded in York together from earlier to him. Totally, absolutely right.

For some time he didn't say anything, and Phyllis wondered if she had scared him off. Or maybe he was just thinking. It was unexpected when he asked her out of the blue „How do you like the curtains? The ones for the living room."

Phyllis blinked. She wasn't sure how she could answer that without offending him. Molesley must have interpreted her silence wrong and added as an afterthought „The ones we brought last, I mean. Of course you couldn't know that those are supposed to be for the living room. Not that it would be of any interest for you where I hung my curtains."

He was rambling. She needed to put him out of his misery fast before he could make a complete fool of himself so she blurted out the first thing that came to her mind. „I must admit that I'm not positively sure if I love them." Honesty always was the best policy after all. Or that's what people said. „The color will definitely fit your sofa beautifully but I don't know about the pattern. I can't put my finger to it but something about it is a bit quirky." Now she said it. And felt bad.

But Joseph was almost bursting with laughter. Not at her, she hoped. „The leaves are quirky? I've never heard anything this absurd before." The twinkle in his eye gave away that he didn't really mind her critcal remark so she joined his laughing fit, feeling relieved and completely content for a minute about the fact that there was someone in this world whom she could completely be herself with. This sobered her up and left her with a rather foolish smile.

Joseph had calmed down, too, but didn't drop the subject of the quirky pattern. „They remind me of you, you know, those leaves." He stated simply.

Now, that didn't make sense at all. It only turned her face into a confused frown, leaving Molesley to explain why in heaven's name those stupid leaves reminded him of her. Instead he confused her even more with a seemingly completely out of content question „Do you know what foliage means in ancient Greek?"

Phyllis looked at him in an annoyed, yet playful way and shook her head, „Of course I don't. You know I dropped out of school pretty early. Must have been years before they got around to Greek."

„It means Phyllis. Foliage means Phyllis in ancient Greek."

Miss Baxter wasn't sure what touched her more: the fact that it was her he wanted to be reminded of every time he would draw his living room curtains or how her name sounded from his voice. She blinked, then swallowed, then blinked again. Her eyes felt wet but she didn't mind the few tears that were making their way down her cheek. This little gesture was the most beautiful thing. It was overwhelming in its smallness if that made any sense.

Mr. Molesley, dear Mr. Molesley, was smiling. It wasn't a funny smirk but an honest and simple smile that held more emotion than she would ever have hoped for. And it was for her. And it was enough.

**Author's Note:**

> I know I shouldn't nag but a review would be great.


End file.
